


soft hands gentle smile (while he grins and jokes away)

by Garecc, Gunpowderdtim (Garecc)



Series: Ready, Aim, Fire [30]
Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Aroace Jonny d'Ville, Aromantic, Aromantic Jonny d'Ville, Asexual Jonny D'Ville, Breakfast, Fluff, Food mention, Gen, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Pining Tim, Soft Jonny d'Ville, Tim Is Very Gay And UwU, kind of jonny is oblivious as fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28014795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garecc/pseuds/Garecc, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garecc/pseuds/Gunpowderdtim
Summary: In which Tim is pining, and Jonny is too aro to notice.
Relationships: Jonny d'Ville/Gunpowder Tim
Series: Ready, Aim, Fire [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799860
Comments: 12
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this on tumblr first

Jonny reached forward, brushing Tim's hair behind his ear.

There was a soft smile on his face, a lovely smile, and Tim's cheeks were burning.

How could Jonny look so fucking lovely? _How?_

Jonny's hand was gentle, kind. Softly brushing against his cheek and avoiding the cruel metal of his eyes.

There was no pain as Jonny tucked the lock behind his ear and Tim was melting. His hand was gentle and stupidly soothing.

Tim had to fight himself to not lean into it.

God. How had he ended up pining like a teenager?

(Tim ignored the voice in his head that reminded him that he was, technically, still a teenager.)

"Your hair’s a fucking mess, Timothy." Jonny griped, pulling back, that _stupidly adorable_ harsh tone back.

Tim could not tell you _what_ he found adorable about Jonny’s tone, because honestly, it was angry, annoyed, but holy _shit_ did it make his heart race.

Tim knew he was _fucked_ . Jonny was _so pretty._

"I know." Tim says, only having half heard the question. He was too busy trying to memorize the exact shade of Jonny’s eyes.

Jonny was just… so stupidly pretty. So stupidly sweet sometimes.

"Really, when's the last time you brushed it? It's practically matted." Jonny eyed Tim’s hair critically, his nose scrunching up and Tim would swear his heart skipped a beat because he’s never seen _that_ expression before and _holy shit he’s so cute._ Tim felt his cheeks grow somehow hotter. 

At that sentence, Tim knew he had it _bad_ because the first place his mind went was Jonny brushing his hair. 

Which was not only unlikely, but Jonny would probably be _shit_ at it. Jonny did not have the patience for thick hair, much less curls.

Tim could _not_ get the image of Jonny running his fingers through his hair out of his head though, so instead, he spoke. Hoping the conversation would lead somewhere else, where he could at least have a moment between the Jonny Is So Fucking Adorable I Am Going To Cry moments.

"Yesterday. An octokitten stole my brush. So I just. Didn’t brush my hair today."

"Ah." Jonny paused, clearly thinking. "Okay then."

Tim wanted to kiss him.

_Tim really wanted to kiss him._

"I’m going to make breakfast. What do you want?" Jonny rolled on his heels and Tim was consumed by how fucking pretty he is.

How dare he be so fucking pretty.

How dare he make Tim want to swoon.

How dare he.

"I don't know. A poptart?" Tim says the first breakfast food he thinks of. He hasn’t regularly eaten breakfast _ever._ When he was mortal he was _far_ more concerned with trying to get to school on time than eating, far more concerned about the looming threat of war. 

Then there was a war, not the one they were expecting but a war regardless, and he’d been deployed and hadn’t eaten breakfast once.

After a moment of thinking, he realizes he can't remember the last time he actually properly ate breakfast and didn’t just eat an apple or skip it entirely.

"The _fuck_ is a poptart?" Jonny asks, and Tim burst into giggles.

He was pining.

Jonny was glaring at him, and all Tim could go was smile.

Jonny was so fucking pretty.


	2. Chapter 2

Tim's hair was in his face. A whole strand going straight over his eyes. 

The sensor kept whirring, and it wasn't that Tim was wincing, but Jonny had seen him flinch enough times when his eyes calibrate to expect it.

Also, it looked fucking ridiculous.

Every thirty seconds he would blow the strand out of the way, only for it to fall back seconds later, and it was getting rather annoying.

Is it so hard to just use a barrette? Or heaven forbid, his ear? Or maybe even the goggles!

He had options, and it was getting annoying, watching him struggle over such a stupidly simple problem.

Tim blew the hair out of his eyes again, and Jonny snapped. 

He reaches forward and tucks the strand behind Tim's ear.

There.

_ Perfect. _

Tim was looking at him with a stupid smile and Jonny groaned. "Your hair’s a fucking mess, Timothy." Jonny groaned, pulling back and surveying the damage. 

Does Tim know what conditioner is for?

"I know." Tim's voice had an odd quality to it Jonny couldn’t quite place. He sounded happy enough though, so Jonny didn't think on it.

"Really, when's the last time you brushed it? It's practically matted." 

Honestly, it’s a fucking  _ tragedy _ . Tim's hair was the most tolerable thing about him.

Well, no. Tim was sweet, stupid in a fun way, and absolutely fucking hilarious in unexpected ways. 

Tim could always manage to get him to smile, could draw out a laugh. The only one other person who could so reliably entertain him was Nastya.

Fucking adorable piece of shit.

"Yesterday. An octokitten stole my brush. So I just. Didn't brush my hair today."

"Ah." Did Tim only have one brush? Jonny had no idea what to make of that. "Okay then."

Tim was wearing a weird expression that Jonny didn't know how to read, so Jonny did what he normally did when getting lost in a conversation.

Changed the subject so he didn't have to worry about it.

"I’m going to make breakfast. What do you want?"

Not technically true, but Nastya had been bugging him to eat more regularly, and he was kind of hungry.

"I don't know. A poptart?" Tim said it like a question, and Jonny had never heard of a poptart in all of the too many thousand years he’d been alive.

"The  **_fuck_ ** is a poptart?"

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: @gunpowderdtim


End file.
